Cold wind swept upon her flushed face
Drying the moisture in her eyes
Chill went down her spine
She is inured to the feeling of forlorn
She tried to ingratiate herself with other's prospects....
To the society, she is a paragon....
No one can see a despondent girl masquerading herself.....
She wiped her tear-stained face
Silent, encircled shell
Her bright tormented smile
She embraced her prosaic life
YOU ARE READING
Soul Of The Darkest Hour
PoetryDo we want to escape the realities of our lives if there were only pleasure and happiness, not horrendous lies? Some say an abundance of darkness is what makes us appreciate a trickle of light. There was meant to be a balance not a pit of chaos in t...
